a verse from that old crooner’s song played, said that “every street’s a boulevard in ole’ new york.” well if that’s the case, then this is the biggest f-cking pothole i have ever seen. we’re all so stubborn, anxious, and detached. and that’s just the way they’d have it, too embarr-ssed to say that we could build something better.

“i don’t give a f-ck,” can’t get you off the line every time. the core of the apple is rotten, but somehow the skin still shines. so what’s the commonality? the smell of the river or these boxes that we rent? the nightlife is the despot to the f-cking desperate.

don’t ever let these bright lights or bustling feet make us feel small again. just hold on to me.

hold on to me, if you need it. i’m awake with yesterday’s coffee resting in the pot. so hold on to me, if you need it. i know you’re tired. these days it seems like all of us are.

so hold on to me, if you need it. i’m awake with yesterday’s coffee resting in the pot. so hold on to me, if you need it.

we struggle against the contradictions of rush hour and dinner time. the core of the apple is rotten, but somehow the skin still shines. we can build something greater than the tallest building in the city.